There's a Criminal in the House!
by DeiDei-Demonique
Summary: ...and he's only wearing pants! Sherlock and Moriarty have kept their relationship a secret for a long time, but could this be the end of it? John comes home earlier than expected and it's up to a semi-intoxicated detective to get James out of the house before he's seen. (MxM, established Sheriarty relationship, rated T for paranoia)


**Third fic update / post of the night! I'm on a roll! (I'm also really tired but enjoying my classical music)**

**We've had my 'general' style in the form of a short update to "Got a Secret", the painful angsty stuff in my new song!fic "Skinny Love", so now here comes the humour!**

**(btw, all three are Sheriarty, so if you enjoy this, I recommend you check my others out too :D )**

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**Disclaimer: _DeiDei does not own Sherlock but would LOVE to see the events of this story happening!_**

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The door was slammed open with such intensity, it almost shattered. Not that they cared, the two dark haired males that were intertwining with each other as they awkwardly made their way into the room. Whilst their clothing was slightly damp from their recent fall in the pool and their breath still held remnant odours of the alcohol they had consumed, they still managed to steady themselves and prevent the expected thud forward into the carpet. In fact, Sherlock was stable enough to manoeuvre his way across the room (which he need to thank John **tremendously** for tidying up that morning) and fling the curtains closed dramatically, proceeding to do so with the second window of the living room.

Meanwhile, Moriarty had positioned himself against one of the walls, leaning back first so that both hands were free to try and untangle the treacherous tie that was suddenly too tight. He jumped slightly at the larger hands that had appeared in his view, the ones that gripped the tie and pulled it off with the ease of one tug, the ones that tossed the silken embroidered material over his shoulder and onto the sofa. It was then that Jim noticed that the room was encased almost completely in darkness and the door to the flat had been locked.

"I would say, 'have a seat', but I'm thinking that the bed might be just that little bit comfier."

If anyone were to look in upon the situation, they probably would have laughed. The only Consulting Detective in the world leading the only Consulting Criminal in the world by the wrist to his bedroom, both barely sober enough to move. However, the only giggles came from James as he fought to stay upright and focussed. It was infectious, and by the time both individuals had landed onto Sherlock's wonderfully soft King-sized bed, they were both in hushed hysterics.

"oh, sweetie, did you get a new bed?"

"I had too, other one wouldn't stop creaking."

"That's good then.. all those noises, such a distraction."

James chuckled slightly as he played softly with Sherlock's locks, drawing him closer and closing his lips over the amused detective's. In a matter of seconds, the taller had rolled over, turning until his surprisingly sturdy arms held him up above Moriarty's smaller frame. Sherlock held a predatory look in his eyes, gliding his hands across the buttons of Jim's shirt, separating the material as he went. Both jackets had been lost during the earlier evening and Sherlock was pretty sure his shoes were somewhere in the hall. All in all, it wasn't long before both were left in just underwear, moist from sweat and pool water. The detective's voice was deep and throaty as he muttered into Moriarty's ear.

"Y'know.. there's only really one sound I want to hear right now.."

And he was damn well sure it wasn't the sound of the door of 221 Baker street opening.

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It was quite amusing for Jim to see Sherlock's lanky figure leap backwards off of both him and the bed as if it was on fire. However, no matter how much he wanted to laugh, the cautious and instantly sobered expression on the detective's face kept him silent.

"Sherlock?"

It was John. Of course it would be John. Even though _John_ was supposed to be at _work_ and should not be finishing his shift for another two hours at least, also adding the time of the return journey which would be another half an hour. This should have left ample time for the two consultants to do what they needed and get Moriarty home. But no, bloody Doctor Watson had to mess it up. Sherlock gave a soft sigh and ran his fingers through his dark damp curls, smirking as he noticed James' eyes follow his hand.

He would need to think fast. How could he get Jim out of the flat before John found out about 'them'? The two of them could easily hear the shorter man's heavy gait as he came down the hall towards them.

_Light steps, or light for John at least. Not leaning, so it's not the limp playing up. Slow pace but not too slow, as to indicate irritation. So, no new cases but not a particularly difficult day. His voice was light when he spoke, but not overly so. Definitely not irritated by something. Actually, he sounds excited about something. But there was no emphasis on his words. It doesn't involve me.._

Sherlock wasn't sure whether to be relieved or insulted. Judging by what he could hear, without any visual aid, suggested that John was taking one of those "extended work break" things. Most likely being filled in by one of those new interns, the ones that were desperate to show their worth even though they were barely weeks out of their University course. The excitement, of course, would indicate a date, with that woman. Jessica or Jasmine or something.. The tension in the room was building as John moved nearer, even Jim was starting to show a little worry. The intoxication was making it hard for Sherlock to think, his brain being betrayed by the transport. This was probably why his first choice was the window. This idea ended almost as soon as it began. A fall from that height would definitely damage someone of James' structure. Plus the semi-glazed look Jim was giving him showed that even _he_ knew it was a bad escape that would end worse.

But John was outside the detective's room now.

"Sherlock, you in here?"

The consultants were practically a blur, as Sherlock wrapped his dressing gown around his near-naked frame and helped Moriarty collect up his clothing. Or at least, the pieces they could find, before muttering "ensuite" into his ear and gently shoving him towards the bathroom. Once the criminal was out of view, Sherlock swung open the door, making sure to keep the dressing gown as closed as possible. John was a little shocked by the sudden movements but tried not to show it. He was getting accustomed to surprises, living with Sherlock.

"You're back early." It was a statement, but the squinting look in his eyes gave John the "why?" without it even having to be said.

"Quite a slow day. Decided to use one of the afternoon's off I have been building up in the off-chance we end up with a rough case. Don't worry though, won't be in your hair for too long..."

As they were speaking, Sherlock was subtly trying to lead John back down towards the living room, being glad that the Doctor was being distracted by conversation. If all went well, Sherlock would be able to get him to his chair without falling over on his suddenly unsteady legs, and come up with a reason to leave him and get Jim out through the bathroom window or something.

_'Oh, rum is very, very bad for thinking. And moving. Why did I ever believe that to be a good idea?!'_

Unfortunately, his piercing thoughts were interupting by one short heart-stopping phrase.

"Hold on, I've just got to nip and have a shower first."

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**Congrats on making it through! This fic will probably only have around 3 chapters, so fairly short, but humorous! (I very much hope!)**

**I will update when I can, but not promising dates (that worked out terribly last time D: )**


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